


jon washes martin's hair

by oakleaf_bearer



Series: martin does jon's hair [6]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Hair Washing, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Season 4 Spoilers, post 159, pre 160
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:48:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25673839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oakleaf_bearer/pseuds/oakleaf_bearer
Summary: after leaving the lonely, jon helps martin wash his hair
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: martin does jon's hair [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1849285
Comments: 14
Kudos: 261





	jon washes martin's hair

**Author's Note:**

> me writing this: martin can have a little comfort, as a treat

The tube ride to Martin's flat was short, and Jon was eternally grateful for the quiet platform. The late night crush of commuters, partygoers, and tourists had passed, leaving only a few scattered passengers. Still, Jon clung to Martin's hand, terrified of letting go of him. Martin didn't complain. He simply tucked closer to Jon as the train pulled into the platform, his fingers tightening around his hand at the loud squeal of the brakes. 

Jon pulled him close, stepping onto the train. It was empty enough that they almost had the full compartment to themselves, and Jon pulled Martin down into one of the dusty seats. The lady over the intercom cheerily told them to mind the gap, and the doors slid closed. 

Jon stared around the train, trying to find a threat in the faces of the other passengers, any hint that they meant harm. 

He was so caught in his examination that the sensation of a head against his shoulder startled him and he almost fell out of his seat. Martin was settled low in his seat so he could rest his head against Jon's shoulder. Jon wondered if the angle was comfortable, but Martin didn't complain. He nestled closer, hand still firmly in Jon's unscarred palm, fingers cold against his. At least he was still solid. Jon buried his chin in Martins curls, feeling them crunch under his movement. They smelt like sea air and Jon resisted the urge to press a kiss into it. 

_I really loved you, you know?_

Martin pulled Jon's hand towards him and rested it on his thigh. 

The ride was mercifully short, and before long Jon was stood inside Martin's small kitchen, uncertain of the next steps. He looked up at Martin, examining the tired look in his eyes and the slump of his shoulders. Martin stared at the corner, not focusing on anything. Under Jon's hand, Martin's fingers felt cold and firm like marble, and Jon was suddenly filled with memories of statues in art galleries he and Georgie used to go to. 

Those statues had always been beautiful and unreachable, with faces that looked too familiar but unrecognisable at the same time. Cold, unreachable echoes of forgotten times. Jon refused to become one of them. He refused to let Martin become one of them. 

He took in each aspect of Martin's face; the line of freckles across his nose, the small scar on his chin from when he fell off a bike as a child, the curve of his cheeks, usually flush with colour.

_ How much do you really know each other? _

Jon shook the thought of Lukas away, and focused on Martin.Suddenly, he remembered what he'd been thinking about on the train.

"Your hair." 

Martin looked at him. "What about it?" 

"It's full of salt. Sea salt. The Lonely, it was a beach..." He trailed off. 

Martin held a hand up to his hair, moving along the stiff strands, still crunching with dried salt. "Huh. I didn't notice." His voice still sounded dangerously flat. 

Jon felt sick. "It's okay. I'll make us some food, why don't you go and shower?" 

Martin shrugged. "Sure." 

He let go of Jon and left. Jon watched him go, desperately trying to think of something more to say. Nothing came before the bathroom door clicked shut behind Martin. 

Sighing, Jon turned back towards the kitchen and started rifling through cupboards. Martin's cupboards were sparsely stocked with cheap canned food, and the fridge was practically empty save for a carton of expired milk and a packet of ham. 

In one of the cupboards, he found a menu for a local takeaway. He briefly mourned his plan of feeding Martin something healthy and filling, and flipped open the menu. 

He'd only scanned down the list of weekly deals when he heard the crash from the bathroom. 

In an instant, Jon was on his feet, sprinting to the bathroom. 

"Martin, can you hear me? Are you alright?" He tried to keep the desperation out of his voice. He failed. 

"Jon?" Martin's voice was quiet and distant through the wooden door. "Are you there?" 

Jon's heart broke. "Martin, I'm coming in." 

He tried the door. It swung open. 

Martin was hunched on the floor, a bottle of shampoo lying next to him. He was still wearing his clothes, and his eyes were fixed on the tiled wall opposite him. He didn't turn towards Jon, making no sign he even realised he had come into the room. 

"Martin." Jon tried to keep his voice soft and steady. "What happened?" 

"I dropped the shampoo. It just fell through my hand." His voice was muffled, like it was travelling across a great distance. He leant back against the edge of the bathtub, sighing tiredly. 

"Do you...." Jon's fingers fidgeted against his thighs. "Do you still want to wash your hair?" 

Martin nodded, then paused and shook his head. "I'll drop the shampoo again. I need a minute." 

"Would you like me to...." 

Martin frowned at him, confused. He watched Jon pull a towel down from the towel rack and loop it over Martin's shoulders, tucking it close under his chin.

Jon stood, leaning up to take the shower head off the wall. It came off with a little resistance, and he crouched down next to Martin. 

"I used to help Georgie dye her hair. She'd kneel by the bath and I'd wash the dye out. I thought..." Focus, Jon. "I thought I could, I don't know.... help?" 

Martin's face was cautious as he stared up at Jon, but he slowly nodded.

Jon carefully took Martin's shoulders and helped him manoeuvre to kneel on the bathmat, before leaning over him to turn on the tap, angling the stream of water into the bottom of the bath. Martin watched him move, the blank expression he'd worn since leaving the Lonely finally giving way to distant curiosity. 

"Do you have a hairbrush?" 

Martin reached up and opened a drawer on the cabinet. He fished around for a second before pulling out a hairbrush. He hesitated, holding it in the space between them. 

"Here." Jon turned off the tap and took the hairbrush from his hands. "Let me." 

Gently, he brushed through Martin's hair, starting at the tips until the ends became loose. The salt made it take longer than it should, but Jon found that he could stay there forever if it meant that Martin kept gazing up at him. 

Eventually, Jon pulled back and placed the hairbrush down next to his knee. He reached over and picked up the shower head, turning the tap back on and letting the water run warm. 

"If it's too much, just tell me and I'll stop." 

Martin nodded and leant over the edge of the bathtub, pulling the towel tighter around his shoulders. 

Jon took a steadying breath. Carefully, he moved the shower head so that the water ran over the back of Martin's head and into the bath. He buried the fingers of his free hand in the curls and started to slowly rub the strands between his fingers until the salt worked loose. 

Jon moved the shower head away, and picked up the bottle of shampoo. "Can you hold this for a second?" He asked, holding the handle of the shower head out to Martin. Their fingers brushed as he took it. 

Jon squeezed a small blob of shampoo onto his palm and worked it through Martin's hair. He massaged his scalp, and Martin hummed. It was quiet, but it was the most solid noise he had made all evening. 

Jon worked the shampoo to a lather and took the shower head back from Martin, his soapy hand leaving suds on the back of Martin's hand when they brushed together. 

He rinsed the shampoo out and repeated the process with the conditioner. After all the product was washed out of Martin's hair, he took another towel off the rack and wrapped it around his head.

"Come on, let's order food and I'll help you dry off."

Martin sat back and peeked at him from under the towel. He was smiling, and Jon smiled back. 

Standing, he took Martin's hand and pulled him up. He went easily, staying close to Jon as they moved back to the kitchen. Jon felt him watching him as he picked up the phone and dialled the number of the takeaway place. They picked up quickly, and he ordered something off the specials menu. They told him it would be about 20 minutes and hung up. 

Martin was sat on the sofa, rubbing at his hair with the towel, but he let go as Jon sat next to him and reached out. 

He dried off the worst, gently patting the hair down until the water had mostly been absorbed. 

When he leaned away to drop the towel over the edge of the sofa, Martin went with him, a hand snaking around his waist tentatively. Smiling, Jon pulled him closer, a hand on his head pushing his head until it rested on his shoulder. 

The still damp curls left a wet patch on his shirt, but Jon couldn't find it in himself to care. 

**Author's Note:**

> im yearning again, guys 
> 
> come find me on tumblr @illbefunnylater or @oakleaf--bearer for my writing blog  
> i take prompts on both  
> comments and kudos keep me writing, pls leave some


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